


Proposition

by Mrs_Don_Draper



Category: Amadeus (1984)
Genre: Adultery, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Don_Draper/pseuds/Mrs_Don_Draper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Director's Cut edition of the film, Constanze returns to Salieri's home in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposition

_**Proposition**_  
Title: Proposition  
Pairing: Salieri/Constanze  
Rated: R  
Summary: From the Director's Cut edition of the film, Constanze returns to Salieri's home in the middle of the night.

 

“Well, do you still want to look at these?” Constanze asks as she offers him the portfolio of music. “Or don’t we need to bother anymore? Suppose we don’t really.”

Salieri remains silent, watching the young woman before him smile coyly at him with her lightly painted lips. He is shocked, then, to see such a fragile looking being to suddenly and forcefully throw Mozart’s masterpieces to the floor and begins disrobing before him. She slowly removes her bodices and daintily steps out of her floral patterned skirt until she is standing in a slip and her heels with nothing covered her milky-white breasts.

Salieri cannot help but bring a hand to his chest as arousal courses through his body. Abstinence had done nothing to quell the desires he felt for this gorgeous woman, a forbidden woman no less, who was offering herself to him willingly in exchange for her husband’s success in the royal palace of King Joseph II. Prick getting heavy, Salieri rushes to the side of the woman, little more than a girl really and instantly falls to his knees.

He grips her buttocks and shoves his face into her skirt, nearly toppling her over his head with force of his lust. He stays still for a moment, simply relishing the feel of the skirt bunched in his fists and the smell of an interested woman.

“Shall we go somewhere more comfortable, Herr Salieri?” Constanze asks with a finger to her rosebud lips.

His head, followed by his body jerks up, eyes wide at the thought.

“Yes, yes of course. My rooms are this way—and please. Call me Antonio. I do believe we’re past such formalities at this point,” he responds, grasping her hand and nearly dragging her to his quarters.

She lets out a tinkling laugh and rushes as quickly as her high heels allow her to.

“I suppose you’re right…Antonio. Then you sir, must call me Stanzi!”

She giggles again at the wrongness of it all. To her, what was once unthinkable now seems delightful: sneaking off with an older bachelor in the middle of the night while her husband was away! The scandal! The pleasure that was sure to come! It made her ache with delight.

Salieri cannot help but think that it has never taken him so long to reach his rooms before, but with Constanze in tow, it seems as if he is walking for miles! And when they finally—finally!—reach his private bedroom, he cannot help but rip that horrid skirt and hoops right off her slender hips and drop her naked, still-heeled body onto his plushy bed, covering her with his own wanting body.

Looking down at her, face mere inches apart, he is suddenly frustrated with himself: he is still clothed while she is completely exposed. How much more wonderful she would feel if he had had the wits about him to disrobe as she did.

“Antonio, I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” she chides good naturedly, bucking up so their groins would hit each other.

Salieri lets out a throaty moan of pleasure at the new sensation. She leans up to tongue his lips and nip his throat as he settles down from the first bit of movement.

“Imagine how you’d feel out of them!”

And though he is loath to do so, he manages to tear himself away from her and her wandering lips and rolls off the bed to strip out of his frock-coat, trousers, and underclothes as quickly as he can. Stanzi leans up on an elbow to watch, paying more attention, of course, to his nether regions. She blushes at his generous size and feels the need to compliment him, bawdy though he may find her comment.

“You’ll be the only one to know this, but you’re bigger than Wolfi! Just don’t ever tell him I said so!” she says with a salacious wink. 

There was no other sentence that could have made him harder than that and soon he was pouncing on the beauty in his bed, the deceptively shy violet was just as naughty as her husband, yet she was one hundred times more beautiful and soft and perhaps a little desperate.

When he could finally muster himself, entering her was better than listening to a Mozart concerto, better than his operas, better even than his masses! It was completely sublime to hear her tiny gasps and whimpers as he moved within her, trying his very best to hold back—hold back—hold back until one of her sighs was more of a cry and he thrust into her harder and harder until the crying stopped and her eyes rolled back into her head which she threw back in ecstasy. And then, then he could no longer contain himself and he felt himself empty deep inside her warm, welcoming body, felt as if he could not stop coming and coming as she whimpered at the sensation and clutched him closer to her as tears of pleasure flowed from his deep brown eyes. 

When he came to, it was to the voice of Stanzi, whispering in his ear, holding his head to the crook of her neck with one hand and running the other up and down his back.

“Shhh, shhh, Tony. You’re alright. I’m here. You’ll be alright…”

And he felt as if he could weep again at the tenderness of the moment, the sheer emotion and affection she was showing him unlike anyone had done in years. No one cared about Antonio Salieri. No one cared about his music or his job or his feelings. No one would care if he were to kill himself, though it would be a sin to do so. But in her arms, a tiny spark was stoked. A spark that told him that perhaps there was a chance he would do something great again, please the people of Vienna again. Her soothing caresses and words were like ambrosia to his wounded soul.

The next morning, he rolled over to an empty spot on the bed, having fallen asleep in her arms without even realizing it. He later realized she had collected Mozart’s papers as well. She had left him in the night.

That was fine, he told himself, because for the first time in years, he had something to sing about.


End file.
